


Less of a Lie

by helens78



Category: Shame (2011), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brandon doesn't know why, but when the woman from the escort service didn't leave, he didn't mind so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less of a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this image on Tumblr](http://helens78.tumblr.com/post/19785042460/placeholder-posting-my-first-lawbender-frigday).
> 
> My very first Lawbender Friday fic! (This is a thing, if only in my head and Sabine's head.) A definition of Lawbender Friday, for those who might want it: fic featuring the pairing of Jennifer Lawrence and Michael Fassbender, or characters they've played. In this one, we've got Brandon Sullivan and Raven Darkholme. :)

Brandon doesn't really know why he let her stay. It's not like she's different from any of the other escorts he's hired-- blonde is one of any number of options, hazel eyes (almost gold, there's something he can't help liking about that), young, nice body-- and the sex was good, but the sex is always good with them.

But she curled up in his bed and tucked one arm under her head and pulled the covers up to her chin, looking at him as he climbed out of bed and started to head for the bathroom, and suddenly the thought of asking her to go was... impossible. Undesirable.

It's not like he can't afford it, now and then.

In the morning he wakes up before she does-- really, he barely sleeps, slipping out of bed once and closing the door behind him, furtively watching and listening for any signs of movement as he gets off to porn on his laptop (cheerleader porn, a young blonde girl getting it in every orifice from a line of, of all things, _swimmers_ ), but once he's done that, he comes back to bed, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling until suddenly it's morning.

Her hand slips down under the covers, wraps around his cock. "Good morning," she murmurs. The sleep in her voice is probably an affectation; she's jerking him every bit as professionally as she did the night before.

And all right, this, he knows why he's doing this. It's morning. It's better than jerking off in the shower. She's here and paid for.

She squirms closer, her hand still warm and _good_ on his cock, and she throws a leg over his thigh, squirming against him, rubbing up against his leg. He can feel her arousal, how hot she is, how _wet_ , already. Maybe she was touching herself before he woke up. Maybe she got up and slicked herself up with some lube so she'd be ready, first thing.

But he can almost smell her, both of them, the spicy sex-scent that his sheets always reek of, no matter how recently washed. It's all an act, he knows enough to know that, but her body's into it regardless.

"Touch yourself," he breathes. Her hand stills on his cock. "Touch yourself, put your fingers in your pussy. Get them wet. Then keep jerking me."

"Okay," she whispers. Her breath is soft against his ear. She takes her hand away, and a moment later he feels the back of it against his thigh, the movement as she does as she's been told. She lets out a little moan as she sinks her fingers into herself, and he takes over where she left off, hand around his cock, beating off while she moves her fingers in and out, warm and deep. He can hear it, the soft wet sounds of her slick heat; if he licks his lips he can almost taste it on his face.

"Now."

When she puts her hand on him it's slick, even messy, and he groans and pushes his shoulders back into the bed. " _Faster_ ," he tells her, and somehow she gets it just right, every stroke exactly what he wanted, everything perfect. In no time at all he's coming, and she catches it on the back of her hand as it dribbles down in soft spurts. He pries his eyes open to see what she'll do-- there are tissues at his bedside, of course. But she licks it up, and he shivers, because that's more than he paid for, more than he could have expected.

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" she asks.

"Do whatever you want," he murmurs, collapsed against the bed. "Help yourself."

"I already did _that_ ," she laughs, low and teasing, but the kiss she leaves on his forehead on her way out feels good, somehow. Like less of a lie than it ought to be.


End file.
